


Mischief Managed

by mandatorily



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Twincest, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 03:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandatorily/pseuds/mandatorily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George plays a game of chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mischief Managed

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Written for http://sortinghatdrabs.livejournal.com/, Week #136's prompt: Mischief Managed.  
> Notes: This is set during their sixth year at Hogwarts. Unbeta'd because those were the rules, so if you find any mistakes, let me know.

Fred’s alone in the 6th years’ dormitory when he hears laughter -- deep, masculine laughter -- coming through the open window. He figures it’s one of the many couples who use the smattering of bushes beside Gryffindor Tower as a snogging spot. It’s dusk and the sun is sinking fast, sure to mask whatever anyone would like to hide. He pays the amorous couple no mind, is really so used to these sorts of sounds by now that he wouldn’t have even heard them had he not been staring into space rehashing the argument he’d had with George. The same argument they’d been having for the past--

“God, George, do that again,” comes through the window this time, on a gust of wind that’s just a bit _too_ gusty considering the trees aren’t moving at all.

Fred thinks he imagined it, conjured George’s name out of thin air with his thoughts, but then he hears the unmistakable sound of his brother’s laughter and he’s out of his chair and at the window in a flash.

It _is_ George and he’s kneeling in front of that nasty bloke from Slytherin, Warrington. George’s eyes meet Fred’s as he leans forward, sliding his mouth around Warrington’s cock and it takes everything in Fred not to leap out the window -- to Hell with the fact that he can’t, in actuality, _fly_ \-- and rip the boys apart.

He growls, a feral sound from somewhere in his soul and storms out of the dormitory, flying down the stairs as fast as his feet will allow. Barging through the Common Room he plows straight into Ron, knocking his younger brother on his arse. Ron calls him a wanker and hits him in the back with a book, but Fred barely notices. He slams out the side door, grabs Warrington by the robes and shoves him away from George. “Get the fuck out of here, Warrington! And if I ever see you near my brother again, I’ll kill you.”

The Slytherin boy’s eyes go round as saucers, but he doesn’t say a word. He’s much taller than Fred, two stone heavier and always looking for a fight -- just like any stinking Slytherin -- but he simply straightens his clothes and runs away. Fred almost laughs, wondering just how frightening he must look to scare the pants back _on_ a Slytherin.

When he turns round, George’s clothes have been straightened, too, but not enough that Fred can’t see the red marks of Warrington’s love bites along his brother’s collarbone. Before he can stop himself, he raises his wand, points it at his brother and casts a cleaning charm, enjoying the look of horror on George’s face as suds start foaming out of his stupid mouth.

By the time the suds have receded, they’re both glaring at each other, fists clenched, chests heaving with repressed anger. Finally, Fred can’t stand it any longer and breaks the silence. “I warned you, George. Told you to quit playing these idiotic games.”

“I told you I would, you oblivious prat -- as soon as you admit you have feelings for me.”

Fred’s stomach drops to his feet, the same way it always does whenever George says things like that. “George . . .” he says, trailing off, not sure if it’s an admonishment or a benediction.

George closes the space between them, the dying light of the day setting his hair on fire and Fred tries, but can’t move away. He’s caught, feels like he’s been stunned and in a way he has been, stunned by the things he sees in his brother’s eyes. George licks his lips and Fred feels all the blood leave his head, fights the urge to faint like some first year Hufflepuff girl and instead does the one thing he’s wanted to do for as long as he can remember. Leaning forward, he runs his tongue along his brother’s bottom lip, shocked, but turned on too, by how similar it feels to his own. George moans against his mouth, deepens the kiss and Fred feels his anger ebbing away.

Fred pulls back, says, “No more games, George.”

George smiles, replies, “No need, Fred; mischief managed.”


End file.
